The Gibson Martini is generally made with gin (or vodka), vermouth and a few pickled onions referred to as pearl onions.

In the great debate as to how to garnish a martini – what type of olive, stuffed or plain, how many – the Gibson, known for pearl onions, has been somewhat obscured. While originally branded for the association with Gibson Gin, the Gibson is now identified for those cute little white things regardless of the booze used.

As a public service to drinkers everywhere, here is the Gibson story. Or, should I say, stories.

First, while martinis are found all over film, books and TV (think James Bond), the poor Gibson is kind of obscure. Best I could come up with was the occasional drink by Roger Sterling in Mad Men, Cary Grant in North by Northwest, a Frasier episode (Stoli Gibson with three pearl onions) and not much else.

What I find fascinating about the Gibson, are the stories about how the drink came about. I found three.

The most common one is linked to the 1930s and Charles Dana Gibson, the illustrator known for the Gibson Girl images. As the story goes, he challenged a bartender named Charlie Connolly at New York’s Players Club to create a “different drink.” The result was garnishing a martini with cocktail onions that became know as the Gibson.

Nah, I’m not buying it. Sounds like it came from some old school press agent.

The second one goes back 40 years prior to this. Mr. Walter D K Gibson is supposed to have had the first martini named in his honor at the Bohemian Club in San Francisco. Apparently, this gentleman didn’t like the way they prepared gin martinis so he specified the brand and had them add pearl onions. Also, he believed eating onions would prevent colds.

I’m not buying this one either.

The story I subscribe to came from a good barman friend and we all know that the stories told over a bar are more accurate than anything on the Internet, not to mention other sources.

As Adam D. tells it, a savvy businessman and banker in the 50’s and 60s often found himself out with clients for the proverbial three-martini lunch. Unable to function during and after the meal, he had the bartender serve him cold water so he could remain sober while his clients got shit-faced. The cocktail onion was used as garnish so his beverage could be distinguished from the others. The banker’s name was Gibson.

Now, there’s a story I can believe.

I write a monthly column for Spiritz magazine in India, which is the most widely read alcohol-related magazine in the country. My column is called Booze Abroad and the March issue contained a story on how the broadcast advertising (voluntary) ban for spirits was ended in the US.

While TV advertising for spirits has become widespread, it came about through the leadership of Seagram, but not without some ups and downs along the way.

The article is available on this blog with the permission of Bishan Kumar the publisher of Spiritz. To read it, simply click on the words, “Spirits Ads on TV” at the top of the column on the right.

Read more…

Brooklyn is known for many things – churches, the original home of the Dodgers, peculiar accents and pronunciations, the 3^rd largest city  in the country (if it were a city) and my “hometown.”

It also has an interesting history in the alcohol industry particularly in
distilled spirits.

A previous posting mentioned Kings County Distillery, which claims to be New York City’s oldest operating whiskey distillery, the first since before prohibition. They produce handcrafted bourbon and moonshine and I intend to visit their operation and report back.

In doing my research about them, other distillers and the history of Brooklyn in the booze business, I came across some interesting information.

Read more…

Like many companies in the food, beverage and hospitality industry, Seagram cocktail receptions and meals were somewhere between elaborate and over the top. A long list of third world countries could feed their people from the leftovers of a cocktail reception.

A good friend and former colleague had a wonderful way of putting it, “At Seagram, you didn’t become a millionaire but you sure lived like one.” Or, at least, ate like one.

Two stories come to mind.

Read more…

I came across an article from The Guardian (via Mark Brown’s Buffalo Trace Newsletter) with the headline – The Rise of Binge Drinking in China. The sub-headline was even more intriguing:

Binge drinking is increasingly common for Chinese professionals – often it’s even in the job description.

We’re not talking about people in the booze business either.

It reminded me of my brief sojourn as head of marketing for Asia Pacific/ Global Duty Free.

The assignment was, as they say, good news and bad news. On the one hand, it was my first head of marketing position, global in scope and in a new frontier – Asia. A dream come true, what’s not to like?

Plenty.

While there were offices throughout Asia, headquarters was in New York. No relocation, but when you travel to the markets you’re not going for a week at a time. No… more like 2 to 3 weeks (and weekends) a month away from home.

The guy running the operation was a smart executive but very strange. Let’s leave it at that, for now.

Two strikes but easily offset, at least initially, by the terrific people and the excitement of the new frontier. The drinking was another matter. Let’s go back to the article:

Drinking to develop and cement relationships has a long history in China. “When one drinks with a friend, a thousand cups are not enough,” runs one traditional saying.

I would not have put it so elegantly when I was there. For me it was fear of the words Yam Sing that literally mean, “Dry your cup” or “Bottoms up.” Oh, how I hated those words!

The big push in China at the time was Martell Cognac recently acquired by Seagram. The presence of Cognac in the portfolio, then as now, is important for business development in China. And, man oh man; our people loved their Cognac. At dinners, we had Cognac as cocktails (straight) with dinner (no wine) and of course after dinner. Every glass was accompanied by those two dreaded words – Yam Sing. Someone would stand up, raise a glass, say some words in Mandarin or Cantonese and end with the fearful Yam Sing. It was bad face not to drain your glass/tumbler even if it had been filled to the brim. No sniffing, no swirling, no gazing at the golden hues – just down the hatch.

Don’t get me wrong, I like Cognac in small amounts, in a snifter, maybe by a fireplace on a cold winter night after an exceptional meal. Down the hatch or bottoms up are not the ways in which I enjoy it. After a few weeks of this, the migraines set in.

I asked my colleagues in the region why Cognac before and with meals. The answers were not helpful. They ranged from “strong food needs a strong drink,” or “Cognac is very western and very masculine,” and the all time favorite (said with a wink of the eye) “excellent aphrodisiac.” All the time I was thinking in response to each reason 1) Chinese food is best with good beer 2) western and macho means cowboys and whiskey and 3) what good is an aphrodisiac when you have a throbbing headache.

Finally one day the solution occurred to me.

At most dinners I made it a point to sit near a potted plant, pretend to take a drink when no one seemed to be looking and down the hatch was the plant’s problem. Must have destroyed more plants than any disease had ever done. Hey, I’m not proud of it, but it was either a headache or the plant.

Fortunately, a few months later, the US head of marketing position came up and it was Joi gin from this Gwailo.

 

Last week most of the advertising industry trade magazines had articles about Bernbach on the centennial of his birthday. I thought I would contribute by relating the story of him, Edgar M. Bronfman and Chivas Regal.

Before I do, however, for those of you who are unfamiliar with him, here is some background on the man who revolutionized creativity in advertising – no, make that brand and product selling.

Bill Bernbach’s style of advertising changed brand communication. He was the anti “Mad Men” focusing on compelling messages that broke through the clutter and resonated with consumers. “The difference between the forgettable and the endurable is artistry,” was how he put it. So think about such ads as Avis “We Try Harder” or Volkswagen “Think Small” or “You don’t have to be Jewish to love Levy’s real Jewish rye bread.”

His effort on behalf of Chivas Regal is an interesting story as described by Edgar M. Bronfman in his book Good Spirits, and by Paul Pacult in A Double Scotch – How Chivas Regal and The Glenlivet Became Global Icons.

In the 1960’s after the acquisition of Chivas, the brand began to languish in the face of competition from such lighter scotches as Cutty Sark and J&B Rare. Edgar managed to convince his father that changes needed to be made to stem the sales declines. These included product reformulation, new packaging and a new ad campaign. Enter Bill Bernbach.

As the story goes, when Bernbach showed the new ads to Edgar there was one ad at the bottom of the pile that he kept hiding. When pushed by Bronfman to reveal it, Bernbach pointed out that it was intended as an introductory ad for the new package and that he was concerned that Edgar wouldn’t dare run it.

The headline read “What Idiot Changed the Chivas Regal Package?” To his credit, Bronfman saw the benefits of the brashness and self-mocking tone and, to make a long story short, the ad ran.

The team at Doyle, Dane and Bernbach went on to change the brand’s fortune by understanding consumers and reaching them through challenges and taunts that were fun and resonated well. My favorite – “If you can’t taste the difference in Chivas Regal, save the extra two dollars.” And, the classic, “The Chivas Regal of Scotches.”

In addition to the central print campaign, the agency created a cartoon campaign, which picked up on the theme. A particularly memorable one showed a ship leaving the dock with a case of Chivas left behind. The caption read, “They’ll be back. They forgot the Chivas.”

Did the creativity translate into brand sell? According to the Pacult book, when DDB took over in 1962, the brand was selling around 135,000 cases. By 1979, sales had risen to 1.1 million.

All I can close with is a rewording of another great Bernbach ad – “Mama Mia, that’s effective advertising.”

No, there’s no such thing. But the idea almost got me fired.

I read in Drink Spirits that they selected a Scottish gin among the best new spirits introduced at Tales of the Cocktail. Caorunn Small Batch Scottish Gin joins Hendricks as Scottish made. The brand is made from the traditional botanical mix plus distinctly Scottish botanicals.

So here’s the Chivas gin story.

When I ran new products at Seagram, as I’m sure you’ve noticed from the tequila postings, filling gaps in the portfolio was a top item on the agenda. Oh sure, we had the top seller in domestic gin but with the exception of Boodles, we did not have an imported brand to compete with Beefeater’s, Tanqueray, Bombay and others.

Our research revealed that a strong overlap in preferences existed among scotch and gin drinkers. A scotch drinker was most likely to drink gin as a second choice and vice versa.

Based on this insight and lots of concept development work, my friend Sam Ellias recommended a Chivas Gin. Before I could say a word, he quickly added that it would not be Chivas Regal Gin, but rather, a gin from Chivas Brothers. The brand would use the Chivas heritage of distilling expertise and skill and apply it to a “white goods” product. Further, his research showed that attitudes toward Chivas Regal Scotch itself improved as a result of the more contemporary gin brand idea. Trust me, at that time, Chivas Regal could use all the help it could get.

I was convinced.

At the next new products review meeting we put the idea on the table for discussion and approval to proceed to the next development stage. There was strong support but something wasn’t right. Those in the room with doctorate degrees in “Owner Anger Detection” (OAD) became uneasy. I couldn’t understand it but knew enough to drop the subject based on instinct.

But not Sam Ellias.

A number of years later when I was running marketing and he was in charge of new products, he brought up the subject of a gin by Chivas Brothers once again. Not only was the research even more compelling but he also found a name that made the product clearly by Chivas. All he wanted was a real world test market with an action standard that if this gin product failed to improve Chivas’ sales, the idea would be dropped. Reasonable.

While I still didn’t have a PHD in OAD, I had a Master’s and strong survival instincts. I approached the subject gingerly and discussed it with a family confidante/consultant to gauge the reaction. Instead of debating the merits or concerns, he must have gone to the head owner complaining about the idea.

The next thing I know, I get a poison pen email from the owner, the content of which I will never forget:

“If I ever hear the words Chivas and gin used again in the same sentence, heads will roll, starting with yours.”

This missive came from the same office that had pushed such brilliant new product ideas as Von Konig Silberwasser (I think it was supposed to be a vodka), Bourbon Street Bourbon (billed as a New Orleans style bourbon, whatever that is), and my personal favorite, Chivas Danu, whose relationship to scotch continues to elude me.

Despite the amused reaction from my management, who assured me not to be concerned, the dispatch rankled me and I avoided new products and Sam for some time afterward.

The caller was annoyed and had a threatening tone in his voice. He got right to the point and informed me that he was a business manager for Jimmy Buffett. He quickly added that we had infringed on trademark and other intellectual property rights – I can’t recall the full extent of our alleged/supposed violations but I was intrigued.

When I politely asked, “What the hell are you talking about?” he explained that Parrot Bay Rum by Captain Morgan, which had recently been introduced, infringed on their established use of the term Parrott Head, the commonly used nickname for fans of Jimmy Buffett. (I remember thinking, “Is he nuts?” How do you trademark the term parrot?)

I knew who Buffett was and associated him with the song Margaritaville, but I was far from a fan, much less an aficionado. I knew he had a strong and loyal following but that was about it.

Instinct told me this gentleman had more on his mind than a lawsuit so I pushed back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I countered. “Two floors below there are offices chocked full of lawyers who spend their time dealing with real and frivolous issues, so I suggest you take your best shot and do what you need to do.” There was silence but I could hear him blink. “Now, do you want to tell me why you’re really calling?”

He went on to explain that they’d like to have private label tequila for their restaurants and, since we didn’t have a viable brand (that hurt), would we be interested in producing one for them.

“Listen… private label tequila is not a good idea … you’ll make a nickel and we’ll make a dime. It won’t be anything more than a well brand… Tell you what … let’s talk about licensing Jimmy Buffett’s name for a tequila.”

The glee in his voice told me that I had just been played but, no matter, we needed a tequila brand and this might just be the ticket.

He informed me that they would prefer to use the name Margaritaville but the look and feel would be totally Buffett.

It didn’t take long to consider, particularly since a friend and wholesaler, one of the best and smartest in the business, recommended him to us. The deal was done, so far as I was concerned. Getting approval from management (not the owners this time) was another matter. It took a while.

Buffett’s man lived up to his end of the deal – wouldn’t you if you got a hefty royalty off the top? As for me, I became whatever the word is that goes beyond an admirer of Buffett, his music (made my kids so crazy by playing it constantly that they refused to ride in the car with me), his business and, of course, going to his concerts.

The biggest issue in the development was to capture the essence of the Jimmy Buffett brand. The next thing I know, the man himself appears at the office and lets us know that he is there to help with the back label copy. In twenty minutes, he produced the most incredible story that was totally Buffett. He is an amazing guy, top of the game performer, highly recognized and accomplished author and a decent, down to earth person.

In the few years that Seagram had it before the lights went out, the brand went from 5,000 to 50,000 cases. Afterward, it continued to grow but was bounced from company to company without, in my opinion, any significant focus or direction.

There is a happy ending however. Margaritaville is now part of the Sazarac Company and in good hands. In addition to the original tequila brands, they have rum and prepared cocktails including a skinny margarita mix.

Reminds me of his song, Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitude – nothing remains quite the same.

When the music stopped during the never-ending corporate version of musical chairs, he found himself with the glorious (or was it to be inglorious?) title of Executive Vice President Marketing and Strategy, Americas. A mouthful. Sounds better than it was.

From Canada to Chile, as he liked to say, he learned about the international side of the business, cultural differences, people and working style differences. In fact, Canada was a dream. Despite the business and profitability constraints, the Canadian operation was top of the game.

South America was another matter.

The Americas was run by a South American ex-pat who was smart and hard working but a micro manager with an occasional reluctance to pull the trigger. In other words, tough to work for.

But, all in all, the experience was terrific. Where else but in Latin America are the following expressions a life principle?

It’s better to apologize than ask permission.

A red traffic light is merely a suggestion.

All things are possible (said while rubbing the thumb, index and middle fingers).

But then, and even more so now, security while traveling was an important issue. On one of the first trips, for example, he was met by a driver/security person just outside of immigration who chastised him for putting his passport into the breast pocket of his jacket. He was informed that he wouldn’t get out of the building without having his pocket picked.

Big deal he thought. A friend had his wallet picked on the streets of Paris.

He heard about a French colleague mugged during daylight in Sao Paulo. Another had his computer ripped out of his hands in Mexico City. Most of his South American associates lived in gated communities but, unlike the US, the gatekeepers had machine guns.

So what, he thought, I grew up in Brownsville, Brooklyn, NYC and the world is a tough place. “Don’t rain on my ‘salad days,’”[1] was his motto.

Then one fine day he got a wake up call.

The Swedish partners decided to concentrate on expanding the business in Latin America and wanted to have a conference to discuss brand development issues in the continent.  The marketing folks wanted the meeting to be held in Bogota, Columbia. He wasn’t pleased but, whatever… never been there, how bad could it be?

To go there he needed a visa and had to go through Corporate to get things arranged. That’s where the story begins…

He comes into his office one day and Mary, his assistant, says, “You can’t go to Bogota because Leo won’t let you go.”

The scene shifts to Leo McGillicudy – the nicest and most decent person he had ever met at the company. Head of security and a former former FBI agent, Leo was a friend and someone he respected and admired.

“What the hell?” he said to Mary. “I’ll call him,” knowing full well if Leo said no, it was no.

He: “’Hi Leo. How’s the family?” (Pause) “Great…listen Leo, what’s this about my not being able to go to Bogota?”

Leo: “Are you nuts? Do you read the papers? It isn’t safe and I can’t let you go.”

He: “ Come on, it’s my job, how bad can it be?”

Leo: “Are you listening? The last thing I need at this point in my life is to go to Bogota and save your sorry ass.”

He: “What am I am suppose to tell my boss…”

Leo: “Whatever you want. You aren’t going.”

He: “But he’s from Latin America and I’m new on his staff…what’s he going to think when I tell him I’m not going?”

Leo: “I don’t give a s**t. Tell him I said he can’t go either.”

The meeting was held in Aruba.

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[1] Refers to a person’s heyday when somebody was at the peak of his/her abilities

He was very excited about the new job. Head of marketing for Asia Pacific and Global Duty Free. The wild west of the spirits business and destined to grow in importance.

He would soon find out that it wasn’t all that great a position for lots of reasons, not least of which was spending 2-3 weeks a month away from home. But the first reaction was total excitement.

First order of business – take the physical and get some shots.

So, off he goes to the medical office, a visit to Dr. Goldfinger and Nurse Crotchet. The Doc is pleasant enough (albeit enjoying the exam a bit too much) and he passes with flying colors.

Nurse Crotched is another story. Very competent, very capable but dour… we’re talking beyond focused — a combination of resolute and sour. On top of it, think of the Church Lady from Saturday Night Live. But, she was well intentioned.

“Okay,” she says to him, “You need shots before you can go to Asia.”

“What kind of shots?” he asks. He’s not afraid of needles but what the hell?

“Well, tetanus, malaria, a series of hepatitis, cholera, all sorts of disease preventatives.”

“Is this really necessary?” he asks.

“Yes, you never can tell what you’ll encounter…where you will be…what you’ll be eating.” Then with a little glee in her voice, “Besides, it’s company policy.”

Some time later, she finishes and he gets off the table and ready to leave.

“Just one more thing,” she says. “Here’s a Dopp Kit[*]. It contains items you may need while traveling.”

He looks inside and sees a bizarre assortment of stuff – a pack of analgesics, Band-Aids, iodine, Alka Seltzer and assorted travel related items. Things he already travels with.

But there at the bottom of the kit, is a condom. He can’t resist mentioning it.

He takes it out of the kit and holds it up. “What’s this for,” he asks.

The nurse turns crimson and says angrily, “You know full well what it’s for.”

“Yes,” he answers, “But why only one?”

She storms off. Good thing he got the shots first.

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[*]First produced by Charles Doppelt, a leather goods designer who emigrated to the U.S. from Germany in the early 1900s. In World War II the U.S. Army issued them to recruits by the millions. Who says this blog is not educational?

I generally don’t post jokes but I thought this one was worthy of wide distribution. Besides, it’s the one-year anniversary of this blog and I wanted to say thanks for reading by providing a smile. Stop me if you’ve heard it.

Four retired guys are walking down a street in Scottsdale, Arizona.

They turn a corner and see a sign that says, Old Timers Bar – All Drinks 10 cents. They look at each other and decide to go in, thinking this is too good to be true. Got to be a catch.

As they enter, the bartender, an older gentleman as well, says in a voice that carries across the room, “Come on in and let me pour you one! What’ll it be, Gents?”

The bar was well stocked and each of them ordered their favorite drink – a couple of martinis, a whiskey on the rocks and a gin and tonic. The bartender, using only top shelf brands, serves the drinks and says, “That’ll be 40 cents please.”

The four friends look at each other. They smile and can’t believe their good luck. They finish their drinks, there is no hassle, no scam, nothing but a fun time. They decide to order another round.

Again, four drinks are served and the bartender says, “That’s 40 cents, please.’”

They pay the 40 cents, but their curiosity is more than they can stand. Two rounds of drinks for less than a dollar. Finally one of the men says to the bartender, “We don’t get it…how can you afford a nice place like this and serve great drinks for only10 cents a drink.”

“Well,” says the bartender, “I’m a retired tailor from Phoenix and I always wanted to own a bar. Last year I hit the lottery for $125 million and decided to open this place. Every drink costs a dime — wine, liquor or beer – it’s all the same price. Best part is I get to meet and chat with interesting folks like you guys.”

“Wow,” they say to each other. “That’s quite a story,” one of them says to the bartender.

As they’re on the second round, they notice a group of seven people at the other end of the bar who don’t have drinks in front of them and hadn’t ordered anything the whole time they’ve been there.

One of the men in the group gestures at the seven at the end of the bar and asks the bartender, “What’s the story with those guys?

The bartender says, “Oh, those guys are all retired New York snowbirds who usually go to Florida for the winter… They’re waiting for Happy Hour when drinks are half price.”

As a group, spirits and wine distributors are among the smartest business people I know.

But there are exceptions.

Back when Metro New York had many distributors and wholesalers, there was one operation whose owner was – how should I put it? – the runt of the litter intellectually.

On one occasion, or so the story goes, a sales manager was having difficulty meeting the NYC plan for Chivas Regal. He paid a visit to this particular distributor and I imagine the conversation went like this.

Sales person: Listen XXXXX, we’re having problems making the numbers on Chivas and I need you to increase your inventory.

Distributor (in a slow whiny voice): But, YYYYY, I already have a warehouse full of Chivas. It’s moving slowly. How can I take more?

Sales person: I don’t care. We need to increase our shipments.

Distributor (in an even whinier voice): Well, what should I do with the cases I currently have.

Sales person (getting angry): Listen to me. I don’t give a damn what you do with the goods in the warehouse – sell it, give it away, spill it out, burn it, whatever….

Distributor (now very confused): Slow down, slowdown, I want to make sure I got it…you said sell it, burn it, what else?

Rumor has it that the distributor is now a supplier.

There have been lots of conversations among Seagram alumni since it was announced on Friday that Edgar Bronfman Jr. was convicted of insider trading in a French court.

The news reports I read raised a number of questions. According to Crain’s NY Business, “The conviction came even though the prosecutor had recommended acquittal…” That’s curious.

The report went on to say that “the prosecutor felt the executives did not have enough information themselves about the company’s health.” What? Are we talking Edgar Jr. here? Didn’t have enough information after having bet the heritage and fortune on a guy who referred to himself as Master of the Universe?

I wonder what the judge heard and saw that the prosecutor missed.

Edgar Jr. sometimes referred to the ease and depth with which people in Hollywood were capable of lying. He described studio executives as people who can swear on their mother’s life that it is raining outside when you and they know it’s a beautiful sunny day. Yet, he couldn’t wait to do business there.

Every year since the 1950’s, Seagram ran the Seagram Family Association (SFA) meeting, an annual session for senior managers and distributor principals. At what turned out to be the last SFA, while it wasn’t known at the time, the deal to sell the company was in the works. Rumors were widespread and felt to have more than the ring of truth. Every conversation, among distributors and management alike, dealt with the speculation. Junior was at the event but hardly visible. Stayed in his suite the entire time, and based on subsequent events, was probably cutting the deals.

He showed up at the last session where customarily the owner addressed the distributors to remind them that Seagram was a family in both the literal and figurative sense of the word and to provide remarks on the state of the business and the future.

When he walked into the back of the room, he stopped and asked what we thought he should touch on in his remarks. What was the tempo, what were the top issues, what’s on their minds?

The answer was candid. “What’s on everyone’s mind is — are we going to be sold?” “The concerns are palpable…they, we, all want to know what’s going on.”

He just looked at us and went on the stage. Immediately, he began to address the topic of a sale in no uncertain terms. He said emphatically and repeatedly that Seagram was not for sale. He didn’t say this — but it was almost as though he swore on his grandfather that would not happen. Less than a month later the announcement of a sale was made.

It was a sunny, beautiful day in southern California but inside the meeting room the rain was pouring down.

In a previous blog on the Bronfman’s I wrote about pity or scorn. This is another occasion for pity. Junior orchestrated the end of his family’s spirits and wine business in favor of the idea of integrating media, entertainment, information and communications in one hand held device. The Smartphone. The idea he had was ahead of its time and with the wrong people.

Quel dommage.

After reading all sorts of predictions for the upcoming year, I’ve decided to add my own.

However, I should alert you a few things. First, while this blog has a diverse audience, these predictions are distinctly spirits and wine industry oriented. My ‘editor’ thinks they’re a bit too insider. But, it’s call Booze Business…duh.

Second, please be aware of the fact that any similarity between these forecasts and the likelihood of occurrence is, well, unlikely.

Without further ado, here are my tongue-in-cheek predictions for 2011.

Companies

In a complete reversal of expectations, Fortune Brands will become the majority stockholder in Diageo and the expected owner by 2012. “Hey, we’re one of the only American owned spirits companies left,” a Fortune senior executive will say, “…and the groundswell of patriotic fervor helped us raise the funds.”

Wholesalers/distributors

McLane Company (whose parent company is owned by Warren Buffett) will finish 2011 by buying nearly all spirits and wine wholesalers except for Southern Wine and Spirits.

Meanwhile, in a related action, Southern will announce that it is vacating the distributor tier and will become a spirits and wine supplier. Someone with the company will say, “What the hell, we’re the ones who build the brands anyhow… it’s time we started making the stuff.”

Products

The blended scotch market will start to grow dramatically led by Haig, Cutty Sark, Old Smuggler and Black & White. The Scotch Whisky Association will declare a drought of inventories and prices will soar. As a result, consumers will leave scotch by year’s end.

Next year will indeed be the year of brown goods, as sales of blended American whisky will increase, led by interest among millennial drinkers. Brands like Philadelphia, Carstairs and the venerable Seagram’s 7 will lead the growth. Some entry-level consumers will remark, “If it was good enough for my great granddad, it’s good enough for me.”

The maker’s of 4 Loco will reformulate the product replacing the energy drink component with a Viagra-like ingredient. Their advertising will include the statement, “We make no claims about sexual prowess but do suggest that it’s the best 4 hours you’ll ever have.”

Also in the new products area, trying to capture a large share of the aging baby boomer market, the makers of Metamucil fiber products will license their name and ingredients for a liqueur. A spokesperson will explain, “While everyone concentrates on the youth market, we’re looking at the other end of drinkers.” The brand will bring a new meaning to the phrase, the morning after.

Privatization

In a startling development, all the control states looking at privatization will decide to keep the status quo and remain state run. They will explain that control states are the only way for small brands to survive. Not to mention the financial well being of their employees.

Retailers

Big box store chains will reverse course and stop selling major brands at extremely low prices. They will say, “We’re less interested in deep discounts and more interested in building brands and making sure that the independent stores are able to compete.”  Executives in charge will be committed.

Seagram

The former Seagram owner will sell his shares in a music company to invest in a new spirits product that consumers will love, will generate huge profit margins and will revolutionize the spirits business beyond imagination. Unfortunately, none of the distributors will handle the brand.

Now for something totally different and unrelated to the booze business…

My last posting on vodkas from around the world stimulated a lot of conversation about Americans doing business internationally. My friend Ernie Speranza, a toy industry executive and former head of marketing at Toys R Us told me the following story that I want to share with you.

“Ah, the fun of working for an international company. While not as much fun as the spirits world, the international toy world had its share of strangeness too.

We (Toys R Us) were opening our first store in Saudi Arabia and the night before we opened the authorities came in and told us we could not open because of the packaging for Bathing Suit Barbie. It seemed they were concerned that people could not handle such an obscene display of western flesh…. or plastic.

We then had to work into the night using black magic marker on the see-through packaging in order to hide Barbie’s breasts. Here I am, an MBA, the head of marketing for arguably the largest toy retailer in the world with 20 years experience in marketing, and I am sitting on a concrete floor in an Arab country under penalty of jail time using a black magic marker to hide Barbie’s breasts. You just can’t make this shit up.”

A new product idea — Burqa Barbie

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Getting back to the booze business, Ernie once told me a story of his experience doing business in Japan and I used his story when working with the Absolut brand owners.

Let me set the stage for you… When we started working with our Swedish partners, every now and then they would lapse into conversations with each other in Swedish. Since their command of English was as good or better than many of us, we were a bit dumbfounded and not sure what to make of it. Invariably we were told something like, “oh, please excuse us, it’s sometimes easier to share our thoughts among ourselves in Swedish.” Sure.

On one occasion I decided to relate a story my friend Ernie had told me about a trip to Japan to open the retail market there on behalf of Toys R Us.

They brought an American with them who was fluent in Japanese, and was told to not to let it be known that he was translating. His role was to quietly inform the American team of what actually was being said. The meeting was with a leading Japanese ad agency to discuss messaging, media and related topics. As the meeting ensued, the Japanese translator was giving sanitized answers to the American team’s requests and the American translator was providing the real statements.

When the Japanese ad folks were supposedly saying “good idea”, “we understand what you’re looking for and we’ll work on it” they actually were saying things like “they don’t understand the Japanese culture or people” “keep smiling and shaking your head, they will go home soon and we’ll do what needs to be done.” Ernie kept telling his translator to keep a low profile and his role will be revealed when the time is right.

After an entire morning of this, it was time to go to lunch. The agency execs were still making comments and their Japanese translator kept sanitizing their remarks. Finally, the team from the States could no longer take it. As the waiter came by to take the table’s order, Ernie whispered to his American translator, “now!”  In fluent Japanese, this American, who had sat quietly through the meetings and just taking it all in, began to order food in perfect Japanese. The agency executives turned pale and lowered their heads.

Ernie said, “Please tell them that after lunch we will start all over.”

When I told this story to the folks from Absolut, they just smiled and nodded their heads.

I’ve been thinking about expanding the Absolut Tales that you see in the Categories section to the right. So as I was gathering my notes and recollections, I was reminded of two attempts at trying to launch vodka as the category was beginning to show its strength.

Both attempts failed.

I was running marketing for the Asia Pacific/Global Duty Free division and like the rest of Seagram we needed a vodka brand. By the time I got there plans were well underway — a concept, package, manufacturing, sales and marketing plans and an interesting name, Bolshoi. The brand was made in an eastern European city and the idea was to ship it through Siberia to the port city of Vladivostok and then on to markets in Asia.

When I got to the group, I was greeted with the marketing plan and budget. As I went over the materials to acquaint myself with what was going on, I noticed something peculiar in the shipping costs. There was an invoice for close to or over $50,000 (I can’t recall the exact amount) that was over and above the actual transportation costs. It was marked, “Transport Support.”

I asked about it and was told it was for a company of security guards (probably soldiers) who would accompany the initial shipment through Russia, the Urals and Siberia. The guards were needed to make sure the shipment got there safely.

The brand did well in Asia but was discontinued when Absolut came along. Good thing because the cost of goods would have killed it anyway.

The other attempt involved Wyborowa from Poland. The W’s are pronounced as V’s and therein lies part of the tale.

Imported vodkas in the US were just beginning to make their move and somehow we got a shot at getting the distribution of this brand with a long pedigree. It dated back to 1823 where it sold domestically, became a strong export brand throughout Europe and the first vodka brand to get an international trademark in 1927. Best of all, the Soviet Union dissolved and the Poles were eager to go capitalist.

A group of us went over and quickly learned what it takes to deal with a country emerging from the shadows of communism. We were at a conference table and there were many different liquids for us to drink, as you would expect, while we discussed the prospects of doing business. Mineral water, sparkling water, spring water even tonic. The bottles were in all different colors, some were brown, some clear, some tinted. So when you poured a liquid from a particular colored bottle (none had labels) thinking that this one was the sparkling water, it would turn out to be tonic. Our hosts made it clear that the economic difficulties meant that all bottles were reused and did not allow the “luxury” of dedicated glass.

Okay, I thought, these folks are doing the best they can, making do and trying to move forward despite the obstacles. Good for them.

As the discussions progressed, the issue of package size came up. They had a litre size but the next size down was a 700ml, which is the required size in Europe. Unfortunately, that size is not legal in the US, which requires a 750ml. We explained that in order to sell in the off-premise trade, we needed them to produce that glass. After much whispered conversation and heated exchanges in Polish, the managing director said that they had found an answer. He informed us that rather than go to the expense of new molds and glass manufacture, they would use the litre bottles and simply fill them three quarters full.

None of us laughed nor revealed our amusement. It was, after all, a creative solution stemming from a difficult economic environment. We merely pointed out that the US government wouldn’t allow that and joked about the interference of bureaucrats — east and west.

Turns out that the production problems were solved, a new contemporary package was developed and the brand was launched. Nothing, however, could overcome the brand name and call issue. No one wants to stand in a bar and call for a brand they can’t pronounce. Ad campaigns and on-premise programming couldn’t counter the verbal stumble of saying Wyborowa.

The brand does under 2 million cases around the world — most of it in Poland. The rest is in Italy, France and Mexico. Proper pronunciation is not required.

After reading my last post on quality control, a good friend and marketer from outside the booze business wrote me about his recent observation of consumers making a wine purchase decision.

(Of course, I’m taking some liberty and embellishing the story.)

A husband and wife are walking back and forth in the wine section just before Thanksgiving. They are obviously having a hard time deciding what to buy.

At a different time and place somewhere in this world, the owners of a vineyard have worried about the harvest, pressing, fermentation, testing, blending, fining, filtration, bottling and dozens of other things the vintner and owners are concerned about. They taste, refine and taste again. On and on it goes until they are satisfied.

At the same time, the marketing and sales people are concerning themselves with the name, packaging and brand identity. They fuss over the label; they agonize about the back label copy; they pray for good reviews.

We now return to the retail shop where this new wine is on the shelf. Our consumer couple is staring blankly at the shelves. We eavesdrop on their conversation:

He: What difference does it make? Pick one.

She: I’m confused. Should we pick it by price? Or, based on these little cards with ratings?

He: I don’t know. Price doesn’t always mean anything. Do you know what the Johnson’s like?

She: No idea. Let’s ask the sales guy.

He: Are you kidding? Does he look like he knows anything about wine? I might ask him about beer but… It’s like asking for directions. Forget it. Let’s decide ourselves.

She: How about this one? It’s a cute name.

He:  Dancing Elves? Looks more like Fornicating Elves to me.

She: If it were up to you, you’d probably pick Farting Bears.

He: Okay. Enough. Just pick one.

She: I got it. Look at this bottle. It’s all in earth tones. Marge’s dining room décor is orange, yellow and brown — this one will match her table setting!

He: Great. Let’s go. The game starts soon.

Somewhere in the world there is the sound of gunfire. Another vintner has blown his brains out.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard or even used the expression — “It’s all about what’s in the bottle” — when referring to the appeal of a spirits brand.

It’s homage to the intrinsic appeal of the product and recognition that image alone is not sufficient.

Couple of interesting questions…

If that’s the case why do some awful tasting brands of booze sell well? To maintain my friendships in the industry I won’t cite any examples but lets just say there are brands that sell more on image than product taste.

The more important question is, who decides if it’s “in the bottle?” For the smart marketer it’s based on consumer taste tests, sensory panels and research of that nature. Generally there are benchmarks, action standards and criteria or hurdles of acceptability.

Except when the owner or senior executive decides that he/she knows better than the consumer.

At Seagram there were the owners who made the decisions and their deputies who established the criteria.

I once asked the head of quality control who had been trained by Mr. Sam about Jack Daniels and got a 20-minute lecture on what was wrong with the quality of the brand. I protested that his view of the product was counter its performance in the market place and consumer appeal. Good thing Mr. Sam was long gone by this time or my head would have been rolled down the building plaza.

A good friend who was there when Seagram introduced a Scotch called 100 Pipers recently told me a story that illustrates the point.

Despite the fact that the company owned Chivas Regal, the leadership at the time, from Mr. Sam on down, was Canadian whiskey driven. So when the idea of 100 Pipers came along the QC folks, led by the owner, kept rejecting the formulation until it reached their notion of acceptability. Research was ignored; R&D and production was ignored; they kept fiddling with it until it tasted the way they thought it should. They felt that no one wants to drink Scotch so take the Scotch taste out.

The result — a good tasting Canadian whiskey that Scotch drinkers hated and Canadian whiskey drinkers wouldn’t consider. It never clicked.

Guess what? According to data I recently saw, it sells over 2 million cases today with more than half of that in Thailand. Who knew?

Still made by Chivas Brothers and owned by Pernod Ricard. Bet it tastes like Scotch too.

I first heard this expression when I was running Seagram America’s marketing and went with the CEO to visit markets in South America.

His view of senior management market visits can best be summed up as follows: “What a waste of time. Everything we will see in the stores will be staged for our visit. It’s a tunnel of love tour but we need to do it.”

I felt he kind of missed the point a bit. Market visits were, and still are, designed to “see how we look” and in that regard it’s in the human condition to put your best foot forward. But you can’t stage how the competition looks and what they are up to at point of sale and who can control what Mr. Retailer has to say.

My favorite tunnel of love anecdote took place in a large, important US market known more for its on-premise business than retail stores. Nevertheless, the distributor wanted to show us how good he and our local marketing and sales reps were doing and how our floor programs stood out.

The entourage — a better description might be the sheriff and the posse — went off on the visit/tour and once inside a store, some spoke to the owner or manager while others checked the displays and floor programs.

A member of the group was fascinated by a multi-case display of one of our brands and the very attractive and large case card that accompanied it. Never having seen it before, but still admiring it, he called others over to have a look. Someone touched the case card and to his surprise, smudged it. It was hand painted… and still wet. We all smiled at what appeared to be a permanent holiday display that obviously had just been put up for our visit. “That’s okay,” someone said, “maybe it’ll stay up and look how much real estate the brands have.”

Smiles turned to laughter at the next stop, also a large store with a massive display right at the entrance.

There was the same case card with the same smudge in the same spot.

I have no idea how they moved that thing so quickly.

He was hired as the head of market research (aka marketing insights) from outside the booze industry. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, he decided that he was going to learn the business by talking to consumers, retailers and the sales folks on the street.

For weeks he did nothing but visit market after market and rode along with local sales managers. He learned a great deal in the field, more than by sitting at a desk and listening to presentations.

Among other things, he learned that the business is based on relationships and, for the most part, respect between the buyer and seller. He learned how the 3-tier system works, how the consumer needs to be factored into the equation and the difference between a smart sales rep and one that’s just going through the motions.

The plan was to see as wide and diverse set of retail situations as possible — bars at night and stores during the day. Some open-ended consumer focus groups were thrown in here and there, just for the learning.

One day he found himself in Detroit. The morning was spent in suburban stores and the afternoon was devoted to downtown. The local sales manager for the company was among the best. Really knew his stuff.

A new word entered his vocabulary — “bank” store. Stores in tough urban settings with thick Plexiglas separating the clerks and the customers.

At one large, important account, the owner greeted the sales rep warmly. In a Middle Eastern accent, said to the sales rep, “How are you? What do you have for me today?”

“We have a Seagram’s Gin program coming up that you might want to look into,” said the salesman.

“What will I get?” asked the owner. “Never mind,” he quickly added, “I don’t need to promote Gin. What’s in your bag? Any tee shirts or hats?”

“No, just shelf talkers, window ads, banners and sales sheets.”

“Paper” said the owner. “I don’t need no paper.” “Got any more Captain Morgan mirrors? My father-in-law saw it in the store and took it home. I want one too.”

“I’m sorry,” said the salesman. “That program ended months ago and it was so successful we ran out.”

“ What do you have in the trunk of your car?” asked the storeowner.

By now the market researcher is watching this interchange with his mouth open and in total shock.

“Listen, I’m just showing this gentleman from New York around the market and different stores. You’re an important account for us and I wanted him to see it. I don’t have sales promotion or loader items. Maybe next time.”

“Sure, sure” said the storeowner. “What do you have in your trunk?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, come on, what’s in the trunk?” asked the retailer.

With total poise and calm, the salesman handed his car keys to the owner and said, “check for yourself.”

He went on, “but this time leave the spare tire.”

{Got any sales promotion stories you want to share?}

Nearly all the business executives I know who use car services for travel avoid limousines in favor of sedans. One exception I can think of, is when there is a large group so a limousine is more cost-effective. The other is the old school types  (now few and far between) who think they are impressing suppliers by picking them up in a block long vehicle.

However, the car service companies sometimes feel they are rewarding a good client by “upgrading” them to a limousine from a town car.

I remember an occasion at the end of a long trip that culminated in an offsite meeting in the New York area and the concern I felt when I was told, “Oh, and since you are such a good customer, we are sending a limo.” “Please don’t; it’s not necessary.” The reply — “It’s on us, no extra charge.”

“You don’t understand,” I said. “My associates will be picked up in sedans or drive their own cars and there is no way I want them to think that I use limos … which I don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” the dispatcher said, “but the car is on the way and should be there in 10 minutes.”

In a near panic I replied, “Listen, call him and tell him to stay at the entrance and I’ll come down the hill to him. No way I want to be picked up at the main entrance.”

So my luggage and me walked half a mile and, like someone who is on the run or has something to hide, I looked left and right a dozen times before I got in the limo. If I could disguise myself, I would have. I got away undetected.

Someone else I knew was not so lucky.

The company plane came back from a trip. It could have been the retreat at Ivy Creek or a Tunnel of Love tour to the regions. I can’t remember which.  It was raining, no, make that teeming. The plane — Whiskey 7 — pulled up to the hanger at Westchester Airport and stopped. The tarmac was full of car service vehicles waiting to pick us up.

When the crew opened the door and dropped the stairs, a driver from the limousine at the head of the line ran up the stairs with an umbrella. We all thought it was for Edgar Jr. But, in a loud voice he declared, “ Mr. A please?”

Out of the back of the plane, more than a bit sheepish, Mr. A said (in a very low voice) “Be right there.”

Mr. A was known as someone who did a great job for the company but also liked his creature comforts. His favorite expression was “The best revenge is a good meal.”

As he walked down the stairs, as the rest of us waited, Junior said, “See you tomorrow… Stretch.”

He was known as Stretch evermore.

To this day I don’t know if he was a victim of an over zealous car company or a guy who got caught.

A reader wrote an interesting comment on one of the Crown Royal postings. The question was:

Why do you think Crown launched Crown Royal Black? I’ve seen a lot of consumer comments comparing Black to Special Reserve (as opposed to the cheaper versions of the brand). Would they be risking cannibalization of their higher end product?

Got me thinking. As some of you know I’m a wannabe playwright and I imagined this totally fictitious scene whereby the decision to introduce the line extension took place.

Messing with the Jewels

Characters:

Boss, Marketing Maven and Planner

The Boss enters the room and joins the others at a conference table.

BOSS

OK, what have you got for me?

MARKETING MAVEN

We’ve got a good idea to help the brand.

BOSS

Good? Not great?

MARKETING MAVEN

Just want to manage your expectations, chief.

BOSS

Look… the brand is slipping. Line extensions haven’t helped. So let’s go back to basics; why are we losing sales? (Pause) How do you intend to fix it?

PLANNER

Well, there are two factors at play among consumers.

MARKETING MAVEN

And a sales issue.

BOSS

What kind of sales issue?

MARKETING MAVEN

Our guys are the best in the business but they don’t understand the brand and what makes it tick…

BOSS

(Interrupting) Because of those damn line extensions. I don’t get it either.

MARKETING MAVEN

I’ll get to that in a minute. The other sales problem is that the brand doesn’t get enough focus. There are too many other priorities.

BOSS

That’s nonsense. Aw, all you marketing guys just want to blame sales. When I want an opinion about sales, I’ll give it to you. I repeat, what’s the problem and how are you going to fix it?

PLANNER

Consumers are drinking more whiskey but it’s Bourbon and flavored Whiskey.

BOSS

Okay, what else.

PLANNER

Consumers are confused about all the variations. In focus groups they tell us that they don’t understand the differences and we’re pissing them off. It used to be simple — better and best. Now we have original, best original, different betters, best better, saved recipe, and so on. Some believe it’s all marketing hype.

BOSS

Okay Maven, you created this mess. What are you going to do about it?

MARKETING MAVEN

Borrow a page from our Scotch brothers.

BOSS

Are you nuts? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of a Scotch line extension?

MARKETING MAVEN

No, no … Our Scotch line extensions are easy to understand. The price and quality vary by color… red, black, gold, and blue. We don’t talk age we talk color. Easy choice for consumers.

BOSS

So…?

MARKETING MAVEN

We’ll introduce Black as a line extension then gradually change the names of the other extensions to other colors. Wait until you see Purple.

BOSS

All right. Start with Black and show me a plan for the rest of the line.

The Boss leaves.

PLANNER

You got to be joking.

MARKETING MAVEN

Why?

PLANNER

That’s just going to add to the confusion.

MARKETING MAVEN

Nah, it will work. Besides, in a year, I’ll be off the brand and working on that Vodka.

PLANNER

Listen my friend, if it doesn’t work, a year from now you’ll be lucky to be handling the Tequila brand.

The Keepers of the Quaich is a Scotch Whisky society with membership by invitation only. Along with others, James Espey founded it to acknowledge those who have contributed to the Scotch Whisky industry.

As an aside, James has held very senior positions in the liquor industry including at UD, IDV, Seagram and others. He’s known for the creation of Bailey’s and Malibu, among other brands, and is the consummate marketing and managerial professional.

He also has a great sense of humor so it comes as no surprise that he would help found a 500-year-old society in 1988.

This is a Quaich (pronounced kweix). It is the classic small drinking bowl of Scotland and the centerpiece of the society and the induction ceremony.

Everything about the society and its induction process is serious and worthwhile but in my humble opinion it’s a hoot, especially the stories surrounding the event and ceremony.

On the serious side, while I’m not sure how it works today, the people who ran the society when I was inducted put on a great event. The Keepers had its own tartan and inductees received a cummerbund made in that plaid. There is a coat of arms with the motto Uisgebeatha Gu Brath which means “The Water of Life For Ever.’’

The event itself is held at Blair Castle (not to be confused with the Blair Witch project), which is the ancient home and fortress of the Earls and Dukes of Atholl. The ceremony, as I recall it, was something to behold even for the most blasé  “been there and done it” booze business executive.

Throughout the induction ceremony and the serious and splendid dinner, you actually feel honored and totally enthralled by the evening. It isn’t until the end of the meal when the inductees are full of Scotch, Haggis and singing while standing on the tables that one realizes that this is just good fun.

About the standing on the table bit, perhaps some readers who are members can enlighten me as to the number of injuries that might have occurred over the years when tables collapsed. My memory is a bit hazy on that aspect of the evening. I recall standing and singing a Scottish drinking song and vaguely remember joining everyone else as we stood on the chairs while raising our voices. But, how the few hundred others and I got on the tables to end the song is beyond my recollection.

Ah, and the Haggis. Now there’s a tale Laddie.

As the dinner began two men appeared, one holding the Haggis and the other looked like he had come from central casting and, with a booming voice, recited the Robert Burns poem, Address to a Haggis. Allow me to set the stage for you.

As you remember from High School, Robert Burns was a renowned Scottish poet and lyricist, widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland.

Haggis is a dish containing sheep’s liver, lungs and heart mixed with onion, salt, oatmeal, other stuff and simmered and served in a sheep’s stomach. Let’s just say that, like Scotch, it’s an acquired taste. (The term ‘mystery meat’ you used in High School doesn’t begin to describe it.)

The poem is a celebration of the dish’s role as a unique and symbolic part of the Scottish identity and culture. So it’s more than fitting that the Keeper’s dinner should begin with this presentation of the Haggis accompanied by the Burns poem.

As the story goes, at one particular induction dinner, things went awry. Picture the server carrying this enormous Haggis followed by the booming voice reciting the poem.

As he walks down the dining room, his voice gets louder as he approaches the final verse, the translation of which is:

You powers who make mankind your care

And dish them out their meals

Old Scotland wants no watery food

That splashes in dishes

But if you wish her grateful prayer

Give her a haggis!

Just then the server slips and the Haggis is tossed four feet in the air. It lands with a loud thud and showers Haggis all over the place. We’re talking meat and offal on the tables, floors, chandeliers and a few dozen Keepers in tuxedos with their unique tartan cummerbunds.

At which point one of the longstanding members was heard to remark: “I see they’ve added a new element to this year’s event…the flying Haggis.”

There were two couples and the pilot on the small plane as it returned from sightseeing in the African countryside. They were heading for the “base camp” some 20 minutes away. Actually, base camp was a misnomer; it should have been referred to as the Ritz in the Jungle.

It was a very elaborate sales incentive trip that a spirits company decided to offer its distributors and outdo Seagram. From what I’m told this was indeed a spectacular trip.

No one really knows what caused the eruption and noises coming from one of the distributor’s stomach. It could have been the huge breakfast, maybe the elaborate dinner the night before, perhaps jetlag, or even the water. Possibly, it was all of the above.

Whatever the cause, the big guy in the back row was in distress. “Hey pilot, I got some stomach trouble…real bad…how long ‘til we land?”

The pilot’s answer was far from comforting. “About 20 minutes. Can’t go much faster.”

“You don’t understand son, I can’t last that long. Isn’t there any place closer where you can land?” howled the distributor.

“Not really” said the pilot.

By now, the other three people in the plane were also in distress worrying about his discomfort and the elevated sounds coming from the distributor. “Please,” said his wife, “isn’t there anything you can do.”

“Well…Okay, I have an idea,” the pilot offered. “There is a flat area without brush just ahead. I think I can land…it’ll be a bit choppy…not too bad…just hang on.”

Sure enough the pilot landed amidst a few bumps but surprisingly smooth for the middle of the jungle.

“Now what?” asked the distributor.

“As soon as I stop, leave the plane and head about 200 yards to that brush area and do what you got to do.”

The plane had barely come to a stop when he jumped out and did a combination crab-walk and jog for the foliage.

A few minutes later he walked out of the brush with a smile on his face. Ran to the plane, got in and the pilot immediately took off.

*                                             *                                             *

Somewhere in eastern Africa there is a bushman who often tells the villagers the story of how he was tending his flock and, out of nowhere, an airplane lands. A big white man jumps out of the plane into the bush, makes awful body noises, jumps back into the plane and off they go.

To this day the bushman must be telling his friends that he has no idea about how or why this happened. But it was surely the strangest thing he had ever seen. It took hours to round up his flock.

*                                             *                                             *

If it were a Seagram trip, there would have been a bathroom on the plane.

The Chairman of a global spirits company decided that he wanted to build a distillery in the land of his ancestors in Eastern Europe. After all, he reasoned, the communist regimes had recently fallen and since most countries in the region were impoverished, it would be economically beneficial for all. The country was known for its Vodka capabilities (not to mention consumption) and had the manufacturing infrastructure. With some upgrading and reasonable investment, world class Vodka could be produced and sold by his company.

Perhaps the rudiments of manufacturing infrastructure existed but everything else in the country was in a state of economic disrepair.

Nevertheless, the wheels were set in motion. The executive in charge of the European business unit was given the assignment of making it happen.

Things moved along well. A plant with capacity for expanded growth was found, production experts were engaged, top-notch grain was somehow located, distillation and formulae were worked out and the plant began to produce Vodka.

Proud of the achievement his idea set into motion, the Chairman decided that he would come to the country to officially open the factory and visit with the leaders of the newly democratized country. He also thought it would be a good idea to meet with the leaders at a lakefront villa or dacha.

This was a major problem for the executive in charge. Even the most lavish dachas were shabby and dilapidated and the Chairman and his entourage were used to the very best.

What to do? His colleagues in New York told him to spare no expense. The Chairman was known for his anger and disappointing him would be a career ender.

So, the head of Europe found a dacha, engaged workmen from the country and flew in top-notch carpenters and plumbers from England to assist. Floors and ceilings were repaired, electricity was enhanced, plastering and painting took place and the rundown dacha was transformed. Furnishings were rented and flown in.

About a week before the scheduled arrival, the team realized that getting food the Chairman enjoys was an additional problem. No worries … a container of provisions was purchased in London and also flown in.

All was set for the arrival of the Chairman after much last minute scurrying and concerted effort.

His private plane was met and, since it was late at night, the entourage was driven right to the dacha and went to bed.

The next morning the executive arrived at the dacha and was asked by the Chairman to join him at breakfast, which was an elaborate meal.

The executive (holding his breath) said, “So, Chairman, how did you enjoy your first night?”

To which the Chairman replied, “Oh you know me, I’m used to roughing it in these third world countries.”